III.

And when her rosie gates y'have trac'd,
Continue yet some Orient wet,

"Till, turn'd into a gemme, y'are plac'd
Like diamonds with rubies set.

IV.

Yee drops, that dew th' Arabian bowers,
Tell me, did you e're smell or view

On

any leafe of all your flowers

Soe sweet a sent, so rich a hiew?

V.

But as through th' Organs of her breath
You trickle wantonly, beware:
Ambitious Seas in their just death

As well as Lovers, must have share.

VI.

And see! you boyle as well as I;

You, that to coole her did aspire,

Now troubled and neglected lye,

Nor can your selves quench your owne fire.

VII.

Yet still be happy in the thought,

That in so small a time as this,

Through all the Heavens you were brought Of Vertue, Honour, Love and Blisse.

E

TO LUCASTA.

ODE LYRICK.

I.

H Lucasta, why so bright?
Spread with early streaked light!
If still vailed from our sight,
What is't but eternall night?

II.

Ah Lucasta, why so chaste ?
With that vigour, ripenes grac't,
Not to be by Man imbrac❜t

Makes that Royall coyne imbace't,
And this golden Orchard waste!

III.

Ah Lucasta, why so great,

That thy crammed coffers sweat?

Yet not owner of a seat

May shelter you from Natures heat,

And your earthly joyes compleat.

IV.

Ah Lucasta, why so good?

Blest with an unstained flood

Flowing both through soule and blood;

If it be not understood,

"Tis a Diamond in mud.

V.

Lucasta! stay! why dost thou flye?
Thou art not bright but to the eye,
Nor chaste but in the mariage-tye,
Nor great but in this treasurie,
Nor good but in that sanctitie.

VI.

Harder then the Orient stone,
Like an apparition,

Or as a pale shadow gone,

Dumbe and deafe she hence is flowne.

VII.

Then receive this equall dombe:
Virgins, strow no teare or bloome,
No one dig the Parian wombe;
Raise her marble heart i'th' roome,

And 'tis both her coarse and tombe.

LUCASTA PAYING HER OBSEQUIES TO THE CHAST MEMORY OF MY DEAREST COSIN

MRS. BOWES BARNE[S].'

I.

EE! what an undisturbed teare

She weepes for her last sleepe;

But, viewing her, straight wak'd a Star,
She weepes that she did weepe.

This lady was probably the wife of a descendant of Sir William Barnes, of Woolwich, whose only daughter and heir, Anne, married the poet's father, and brought him the seat in Kent. See Gents. Magazine for 1791, part ii. 1095.

II.

Griefe ne're before did tyranize
On th' honour of that brow,
And at the wheeles of her brave eyes
Was captive led til now.

III.

Thus, for a saints apostacy
The unimagin'd woes

And sorrowes of the Hierarchy
None but an angel knowes.

IV.

Thus, for lost soules recovery
The clapping of all wings
And triumphs of this victory
None but an angel sings.

V.

So none but she knows to bemone

This equal virgins fate,

None but Lucasta can her crowne

Of glory celebrate.

VI.

Then dart on me (Chast Light1) one ray,

By which I may discry

Thy joy cleare through this cloudy day
To dresse my sorrow by.

A translation of Lucasta, or Lux Casta, for the sake of the

metre.

UPON THE CURTAINE OF LUCASTA'S

PICTURE, IT WAS THUS

WROUGHT.1

H, stay that covetous hand; first turn all eye,
All depth and minde; then mystically spye
Her soul's faire picture, her faire soul's, in all
So truely copied from th' originall,

That

you will sweare her body by this law Is but its shadow, as this, its;—now draw.

LUCASTA’S WORLD.

EPODE.

I.

OLD as the breath of winds that blow
To silver shot descending snow,
Lucasta sigh't; 2 when she did close
The world in frosty chaines!
And then a frowne to rubies frose

The blood boyl'd in our veines :

Yet cooled not the heat her sphere

Of beauties first had kindled there.

1 Pictures used formerly to have curtains before them. It is still done in some old houses. In Westward Hoe, 1607, act ii. scene 3, there is an allusion to this practice:

"Sir Gosling. So draw those curtains, and let's see the pictures under 'em."-WEBSTER's Works, ed. Hazlitt, i. 133. 2 Original reads sight.